


five years old

by worstgirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, But what’s new, F/F, F/M, Jeremy’s mom is a bitch, all their parents kinda suck, also these are personal headcanons, except michael’s moms, mentions of child abuse, mentions of fluff but tbh its just angst, mentions of physical and mental abuse, small Children, they’re great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 05:23:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl
Summary: at five years old, kids will believe anything their families tell them, even if they’re wrong.





	five years old

At five years old, Chloe Valentine got her first princess costume. She twirled around her living room on her mother’s ridiculously big high heels, giggling until she tripped on the hem of her dress and fell over, starting to cry because her knees were bruised. Her mother came running, saying her daddy was busy. He was always busy now. When she told her father about it at dinner- just her and her father and her mom at a big table meant for more than three- he only glanced up from his phone, muttered an apology, and looked back at the screen. Two minutes later he disappeared into his office to take a business call. Maybe if she was more outspoken, her daddy wouldn’t have to leave so often.

 

At five years old, Brooke Lohst was at her older brother’s kitchen counter, and he had her hands over hers, teaching her how to roll dough. She gave him the biggest grin. Her mother walked in, hair askew from sleep- she worked the night shift- and saw the two making cookies. A slight comment about Brooke’s weight- she had always been a little chubby, child that she was- and then she disappeared, leaving the child wondering. Maybe if she listened to her mom, she would be accepted by all the other kids at school, maybe she would be pretty.

 

At five years old, Jenna Rolan lay curled on the couch next to her dad. She tugged on his sleeve, pointing at the screen where the news reporter was.  _ I wanna do that when I grow up.  _ Her father laughed and patted her head, like she was a tiny dog, mussing her hair a little. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to her that much. She tried to mention that she had done well on her test in math today, but she was shushed, her father’s eyes fixed on the television screen. Maybe if she told other people’s news, people would care about hers.

 

At five years old, Christine Canigula put on a show for her siblings, parading in front of her bed as she created a dramatic story about a princess and a dragon. The princess also happened to be a spy, and an knight, and a baker. Her older sister scoffed and said that she could only be one thing.  _ That’s stupid. People choose one job. Like daddy and mommy, they only do one thing. You can’t do more than that.  _ Christine frowned, dropping her cardboard sword. She didn’t want to just do one thing. She wanted to be everything- a ninja and a princess and a spy and an astronaut. Maybe if she could prove to her sister that it wasn’t stupid, she would love it.

 

At five years old, Michael Mell came home, tears rolling down his face, and asked his mommies why the kids at school didn’t like him. He clutched a drawing of their family- two girl figures, then Michael- in his hand, scrawled in crayon. It read in a messy child’s handwriting  _ my mommys.  _ The kids at school hadn’t liked that. Or at least not one of them, his friend Jeremy said it was better than his. He drew his mommy halfway across the paper. His mama knelt by his side, his mom looking upset as she stood by her wife’s side.  _ They’re scared, because our family is different. People don’t like different. But different is good, it makes you special.  _ The picture of their family was hung on their fridge with alphabet magnets. Maybe if Michael told himself that being different was good, he’d feel good.

 

At five years old, Jake Dillinger found himself staring at the gift he’d found on the table. His parents were gone again. He looked at the flyer he’d gotten from his teacher in school today-  _ join the soccer team!  _ It proclaimed in large letters, and he had to stumble along it, but the babysitter had helped him by reading it aloud. He remembered a kid on his bus saying that his mommy made snacks for his soccer team. That all mommies were involved with the soccer team. Maybe if he joined the soccer team, his mommy and daddy could pay attention to him. 

 

At five years old, Rich Goranski stood staring at his father. He’d barely gotten home from the funeral- Rich didn’t like it there, everyone cried and his mommy was in a box and everyone wore black- and he was already going in the cabinet that his mommy didn’t like him opening. He cracked open a can of beer, falling on the couch with a small muffled thud, his suit still on but tie untied.  _ Daddy what happened to Mommy? Is she really gone? I thought the doctors said-  _ but then his dad muttered three words that made Rich want to cry.  _ Fuck off, kid.  _ So off Rich slunk to his room, holding the bear his dad said he was too old for but his mommy said would protect him from the monsters. Maybe if he squeezed it tight enough it would protect him from the monster that took his mommy away.

 

At five years old, Jeremy Heere hid under his bed, curled in fetal position. He was thinner than he should have been, even as a five year old. The screaming from the kitchen and the smashing of plates echoed in his ears as he rocked back and forth. He wondered why his chest felt all tight, why his mommy and daddy were screaming again, why his mommy said to hide the bruises under his sleeves. He curled tighter into the cardigan she had gotten him for his birthday- the last one she’d remembered, even if she had gotten an adult small rather than a kid’s small. Maybe he could fix his mommy, make her stay, make her and daddy get along like the other kid’s parents got along- like Michael’s mommies got along. 

**Author's Note:**

> wow it’s more angst
> 
> tbh this is just kind of how i think all their personalities started
> 
> and i’m sorry for all the sadness but 
> 
> sorry smol children
> 
> stay safe, and stay wonderful, loves!
> 
> ~PlayerTwoHeere


End file.
